


sorry, what did you say exactly?

by muuny



Series: the thing is, we think we have time [1]
Category: Catfish: The TV Show
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication, a lil angsty too i guess, attempts at being funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muuny/pseuds/muuny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You gotta go after him," is the last thing Dave tells Max. He is the chosen one, the only one, who can solve this. But how, when he's the last person Nev wants to see?</p><p>or Max comes back from Hollywood and Nev is upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sorry, what did you say exactly?

Max knows he's fucked when the last sentence falls out of his mouth:

"I can't reply to every single text you send or answer every time you call, Nev. I'm _busy_. My entire world doesn't revolve around you."

He silences Nev for an unheard of three seconds, and that's typically not a good thing.

"That's fine," Nev replies calmly from the other side of the phone, "just whenever you do have the time, don't even bother texting or calling me."

 _Click_.

Max kinda needs his phone, so he does not slam it to the marble floor like he so desperately wishes. He just hurls it over his shoulder and prays to God his plastic five-dollar phone case holds up and it doesn't shatter. But then again, fuck it.

He's done. Absolutely done dealing with this shit.

Some days he just wanted to quit the whole thing. Wanted to say "fuck it all" and catch the first plane back home. But he was far too deep into this. Far too invested. He had a team of people counting on him to get it done, and goddamnit he was Maxwell Joseph and he would pull through. But then some days were good. Actually really good. The stars and planets aligned, the filming and cast were on point, they had hours of fabulous sunlight to play with, and things progressed precisely as Max planned they would. Those were good days.

But ever since he detached from his best friend's hipbone it seems that every good day he had all spiraled to shit by nightfall with just a couple strokes of the thumbs.

Directing a movie—and a Hollywood movie with an A-list actor at that—is some tough shit. Tough shit Nev, in spite of all his ardent arguments otherwise, doesn't know the first thing about. He was considerate of Max's fairly hectic schedule the early weeks of his debut as a big shot director. Though as the weeks sandwiched into months, Nev consequently became unbearable.

Nev contacted Max at the most inconvenient of times. And of course with Max being here and there, he did not always respond to him as promptly as Nev would have liked. But Max did do his best to respond and acknowledge every text or call with an apology, the occasional emoji showing Nev he's wholly sincere. The first couple missed calls and unanswered texts Nev excused, but the twelfth and thirteenth?

Unacceptable.

Nev's messages, which were usually content-rich, thinned to cut and dry, and the sassy sarcasm was in full swing. Their conversations were shortened by minutes, if they even had anything to say to one another. Five sentences in, and the couple's already bickering back and forth with the same old jargon: Nev claiming Max has no time for him, Max passionately retorting that he is insanely engrossed with the movie, Nev stating that he's not too busy to send a one-worded text...

And the crazy thing is, those are the stupid exchanges of a quarreling couple, and Nev isn't even his lover.

"You alright, man?"

A voice from the hallway shatters the stillness, the deep waves bouncing off one of the many rooms that sneaks away from the lobby of the grand hotel. It is the ever handsome Zac Efron.

Oh yeah. They're pretty much done with the movie as a whole, and right on schedule. It's all packaged in a silver bow, blessed with Max's magic touch. Tonight is the beloved director's going-away party in Miami before he departs for home, and with the centerpiece—Max—absent for much of it, it isn't much of a party. Zac bestows upon Max a skinny glass of champagne and invites himself down into the second comfy chair adjacent to him. Max accepts the drink by the thin stem of the glass and smiles gratefully.

"Thanks, dude," they raise them in a toast, then Max takes a refreshing drag, "and 'm fine. Doin' fine."

"You sure about that? I'm pretty sure I heard something explode out here just now."

"Ha. My sanity."

Zac fiddles with his collar when something slim and sparkly flashes in his peripheral view. It's Max's cell, laying flat on it's face. He so kindly lifts it from the floor.

"I take it the call didn't go over all that well with the girlfriend?" Zac asks. He presents the unscathed phone to the other man. Max emits a soft side chuckle at the affectionate nickname. When he says "girlfriend," unbeknownst to Zac, he's referring to the lovely Nev Schulman. One day—early in filming—the actor happened upon a beaming Max and the final seconds of his private call with Nev. After hanging up, Zac poked his nose into the hall and simply asked, "Girlfriend?" and Max thought it to be a cute and fitting codename for Nev. He chortled with pink high in his cheeks and shot back with a "Yeah." And so it stuck.

"Has any of them, really?" he takes his device, "Thanks."

"Welcome. And heh, you tell me. She's just missin' you, that's all."

"Yeeaaah, but not in the cute way." Zac has no idea. There is nothing too cute about a seriously pissed Nev.

"Good thing you're headed home tomorrow, huh?"

Max's lips fight to maintain a genuine smile.

"Yes. This is literally my last straw. It's like I want to go home, but then I don't, 'cause I'll be going home to _that_."

Zac gives a shrug, but it's a positive shrug.

"Well, I'm eighty-nine percent sure things'll all go back to normal when you talk things out with Nev."

"I think so, too. I _hope_ s—"

Wait.

Did...

Did Zac...?

Did he just say...?

Max swallows the butterflies back down into his stomach.

So much for codenames.

"You may've fooled the others, but for me, it wasn't that hard to figure out," Zac squints at the stricken man in that all-knowing style and swirls his glass of champagne in his left hand, "it was the way you looked at him when we first arrived to steal you away that tipped me off. You really, really, really didn't want to leave his side, and I could tell. Nev didn't help my suspicions, either. He looked absolutely petrified when we all discussed the offer in person for the first time. When we came with the team and asked permission from Nev to borrow you, he made this face. It was fast, but it told me everything. He didn't want you to go, but he didn't want to hold you back. He did a great job playing it off, though, but I saw through it.

And remember when I stepped aside and turned away for a minute before we boarded? Honestly I felt like I had to give you two space because I sensed I was intruding upon you guys' goodbyes, something completely private and not for my eyes to see. But I kinda peeked, and I'm really glad I did. 'Cause I finally understood: I saw exactly what you two meant to each other simply by looking in your eyes. And it was in the way you held him and the way he held you. It didn't look or feel like two best friends saying, "see ya later." An' it hurt me a bit because I knew we were taking you away from him for an indefinite amount of time, and I knew then what it was going to do to you.

Then when Nev would call you would do a complete one-eighty. I saw it in your smile that day. Your smile, your attitude, your tone of voice. Those calls were like boosts of energy for you; it was kinda cute to watch you turn into this whole 'nother person. But, you know, as everything dragged on, you've been a little uptight. Even distant. I guessed you and Nev were going through things. I saw how down you were on some days, and I wanted to say something, but I didn't feel like it was my place. I felt like I had something to do with it, too. Guilty conscience, I guess."

"Really?" an amused Max asks.

"Of course! If you weren't out here you'd be somewhere with him busting some catfish or whatever."

"All true," Max says with a fond smirk to the rim of his glass, "but I don't regret this decision. I've learned a tremendous amount from being out here. I've gained a lot of experience, and I had lots of fun working with all of you guys, of course. I'm thankful to have been chosen for the job. However, I can _for sure_ say this has definitely been one of the hardest decisions I've ever made." Because he did not know how much Nev is truly a part of him until he had to be without him. He didn't have to think about being without Nev. Nev was always there.

"Do you love Nev, Max?"

Max is in mid-swallow when he's hit with the question, and he isn't ready for it. He sort of chokes and some of the wine fizzes irritatingly in the back of his nasal cavity.

" _Love?_ " he parrots between sniffles, wiping his nostrils with the back of his hand.

"Maybe that was too much too soon," Zac mutters to himself, "alright, maybe not 'love,' yet. How about this... Do you _like_ Nev?"

Does he like Nev? Well is the sky blue? Of course he likes Nev. Nev is his very best friend. He will do any- and everything if it is for him. If no one else can make him laugh or smile, Nev can in his own Nev-ish way, but he also wields the power to make him feel like the biggest piece of shit on this side of the universe. Nev cannot simply be categorized as a "friend." It's not that black and white when it boils down to him, and, looking back on it, it's never been that way. Max has known that much since... since he's known the man, he feels. Nev is special and has always been special. His heart beats differently when Nev's present, and he really wants to know when this all started. Zac seems to have a better idea when than he does, presently.

Zac's perfectly manicured eyebrows wiggle, intrigued by the other's very flustered reaction.

"Have you ever even thought about this? At all?"

"Not... Not really."

"Really?"

" _No?_ "

"What about Nev? You think Nev's ever felt somethin' for you?"

Max's head aches from squinting in thought so much.

"I... I don't know? I-I mean, he's always fooling around. Even I can't tell when he's being serious, or _half_ serious at times."

"I've watched you guys in action. He's really attentive towards you in a slightly more-than-best-friends-y sort o' way." And touchy. And bubbly. And he has no concept of personal bubbles. And he thinks he's a human drape.

And Max dismisses it all because it's _Nev_. He's not complaining, oh no. He kinda... He kinda likes it. He likes being the focus of Nev's dark eyes. He's comforted by the constant weight of his long arm laying on his shoulders. And he will admit, his heart sputters when they swap flirtatious dialogue over coffee tables. Nev makes Max feel things that cannot be explained readily, but there is always this ever-present pulse of warmth beneath his left chest when he sees, hears, or feels him.

Zac polishes off his drink.

"You guys are a mess, man, but... a cute mess. Listen, the sooner you figure out what he really means to you, the sooner you'll sort this out. But you can do all that _after_ the party," and the actor stands and extends his hand to Max in invitation, "I didn't request the best DJ in town for nothin'. The dance floor's not gonna dance itself."

Max scrapes through his scalp with his hand.

"I'm sure it doesn't need any of my dancing. But yeah, you're right. Might as well live it up while I can."

Max takes the hand, and Zac helps him out of his warmed spot. The two mosey on back to the lobby, where Max is received warmly and loudly with applause for the second time that night. He's grinning to all of their smiling faces, yet internally he's cowering in a corner of his heart.

TTIWTWHT

_los angeles..._

Nev isn't there to officially welcome him back to Los Angeles. And that's fine. Max figured he wouldn't be at the airport; his hopes aren't terribly crushed when he doesn't receive an over zealous, full-body embrace from his animated pal fresh out of the gate. But truthfully, Max thinks it's for the best. If Nev was there he would have probably clawed his eyes out, and Max would like to keep his eyes.

Nev has not called nor text him since the night of his party, and vice versa. Max does not know how much longer they can keep this up. They're going to start filming new episodes for season four in two weeks time together, and they will have to at least pretend like they don't want to strangle one another on camera if they fail to make amends by then. Or, who knows, maybe there won't be a season four starring Max Joseph. Hell if he knows at this point.

He just wants to go home and chill.

TTIWTWHT

_one week until max's return to catfish..._

Max doesn't know what to do with himself. Without Nev to drag him from place to place—whether willingly or not—he holes himself up in his flat and tinkers with his toys atop his bed all by his lonesome. His phone is an arm's stretch away, buzzing with notifications from anyone and everyone but the sole person he desperately wants to converse with. Blues-y indie songs gently play on repeat, every lyric carried to every corner of his home via speakers. A sap? Perhaps, but in his defense, only Nev reduced him to this. He's confided in Zac about his dilemma, too. The actor suggests that he stop sulking and confront Nev straight up about their gigantic elephant in the room, but Max insists that it is not that easy with Nev. And it's not. At times Max does want to march down to the younger's residence, lock them up in Nev's house and iron out things like that, but now's not that time. For now he just wants to deal with things how he deals with things, which includes wallowing in his circa-2004, soft emo tunes, glancing at the face of his phone every five minutes, and dissecting the features of his new handheld he bought for himself. (Retail therapy is a thing.) Unfortunately for him, there will never be anything shiny enough to distract him from the absence of Nev's shiny aura.

Another thing he's been doing is monitoring Nev's social media outlets. Twitter, most prominently. As of late, Nev's tweets are a blend of happenings from the show, conversations with his followers and past co-hosts, and horrible LA traffic. When he isn't tweeting about either of those subjects, sprinkled in on his timeline are tweets melancholic in nature with quoted lyrics and grey-colored sayings. It cuts Max in a tender spot, because he knows he is to blame for ninety-five percent of them. Max hasn't posted much of anything except for promotions for the movie. In fact, that's all he has posted. He's not much for airing too much of his personal life for others to burrow their noses in, but social media is the only way he can communicate with Nev, though strictly in an indirect manner. If Max sends a text he will most likely ignore it. He is almost confident Nev is stalking his accounts, too, so whatever he posts Nev will see, unable to resist the natural human impulse to invade someone else's privacy.

That gives Max a brilliant idea. He opens the Twitter app on his phone and prepares to compose a new tweet.

 _i miss him_ , is what firstly comes to mind, and is all Max thumbs into the empty box. And he does. He misses Nev something awful. He stares at the unpublished tweet in serious contemplation, then submits it and immediately regrets it afterwards, but that's normal for him. Max gingerly sets his phone on one the pillows and attempts to find something to occupy his time, but the need to see if Nev tweeted anything—directly or not—is overcoming.

Ten minutes melt away. That's a considerable amount of time to wait. Max gathers his cell and thumbs over to Nev's timeline. His latest tweet was posted two minutes ago. It reads:

_why don't you just go back? i'm sure that's what you want to do anyway_

Max doesn't know what he expected from Nev, but it certainly wasn't a response like this.

" _You_ , you idiot. I was talking about _you_ ," he curses, his digits fiercely swiping about the screen and submits his feelings without a second thought.

  
_you shouldn't speak when you have no idea what you're talking about_

  
Five minutes later, Nev responds:

  
_i am many things, but i am hardly ever mistaken_

  
Max actually laughs.

"He's such a smart ass."

And things do not get any prettier from there, nor subtle. Any idiot can tell that they're talking about one another just by reading the tweets that follow. Nev takes semi-soft jabs at Max, and the eldest is borderline nonsparing with his retorts. He has to remind himself that this is Nev he's popping off at.

  
_i can't believe someone who's usually so smart can act so irrational_ , Max counters.

  
_i can't believe someone who's usually so kind is also so inconsiderate_

  
Inconsiderate? Really? Max has been inconsiderate of Nev? Since when? Has he not put Nev first all these years? Does he not bend over backwards for him, and jump when he says jump, and put all of his needs before his own? Max abandons his phone in the middle of the bed. Nothing is making sense, but it still sucks. Everything just _sucks_.

His cell abruptly vibrates and it nearly scares him out of his skin. Max's arm roughly snaps as he instinctively reaches for it, fervently wishing it's Nev. But it's a text from Dave.

" _Quit_ " is all it says—one word—and Max instantly knows what he's referencing. He's probably been monitoring their passive-aggressive tweets, along with the thousands of other concerned followers, and it's not a good look for either of them.

" _Got it. Sorry_ ," Max types back, full of sighs.

He's right. They need to quit; this isn't the way to do it. Max is a grown, thirty-year-old man, and Nev is well on his way. But look at them, pettily arguing over Twitter like a pair of feuding high school freshmen. How mature. He can't believe he has stooped to this all-time low, but this just shows what he is willing to do and put up with to mend and heal the relationship with his partner.

It's back to the basics, he decides. Max revisits the old text thread he shares with Nev. Even if the younger doesn't reply, it's worth a shot. He'll know if he reads it, at minimum. Time passes Max silently as he intensely meditates on what he should send. Something long and winded? Or short and sweet? No one else will see it. No one but Nev, and that's what he wants.

  
_I do miss you Nev, and we seriously need to talk. please text or call me._

  
If they were not in the middle of dissing one another, he'd get a response in less than two minutes. But, as expected, Nev does not reply, and Max's not disappointed. He's nipped at the core a bit, but he tries not to marinate on it for too much and sweeps the budding emotions under the rug to compartmentalize later.

Something does tell him to check out Nev's Twitter page, though, and he follows through with the urge. A new tweet is published only minutes after Max's last text message:

  
_so now you feel like talking_

  
Max's mouth dips; he powers off his cell entirely.

It's going to be a long week ahead.

TTIWTWHT

_season four, episode six..._

Max arrives to the designated hotel. He gets a text from one of the crew members detailing his hotel room and the time to meet up in Nev's room. This is typically Nev's job, but go figure. He's running behind by only a few minutes, but hey, he's here. As he makes the trip down to the other's room, his stomach's folded three times over, and his gamut of emotions is a medley of a kid on his first day of kindergarten and an adolescent about to ask his first crush to the school dance.

The party's all congregated in Nev's hotel room. Max's grand entrance causes a uproarious welcome from the MTV crew. He gets his rounds of hugs and handshakes out of the way, acutely aware of Nev's indifference. He isn't the first one at the door. Speaking of the devil, he's getting last-minute, make-up touch ups in one of the hotel chairs situated at the desk.

This is Max's first time seeing him in the flesh after so long, and his eyes refuse to settle on anything else. Nev has always looked amazing, but today he looks _amazing_. It's his hair. Or the handsome simplicity of this plain white t-shirt. He's radiant, gorgeous, and all legs in his slimming pants.

Max is not able to ogle him for too long. He is rushed over to the empty seat next to Nev. It's his turn to have the prickly ends of various brushes dance about his face. Max dips down into the cushioned chair, holding his breath. Airy foundation is sprinkled and evenly blended into his skin straight away. When the prickly ends of the brushes aren't stabbing him in the eyes, he steals glances from Nev and observes what he can. His long fingers rapidly tap away on his laptop's keyboard. He appears to be weaving through his inbox. His left leg is a mere foot from Max's right, the latter notes. They can bump knees.

So close. They are so close, but Max might as well have been in another room. Or hotel. Or town. It wouldn't have made a difference. Not a word leaves Nev's throat that is specifically addressed to him; it bites. It's very unusual of them to be this quiet and distant to each other, and everybody's breathed in the tainted air by now. But the show must go on.

It's time to start filming. Everyone takes their places. The camera crew merges with the background, Nev and Max now the center of the hotel room that now appears too small and stuffy. They rise from their seats in perfect sync. Max strokes his palm-sized camera. He does not anticipate Nev's eyes boring into his body when looks up, but when their line of sight links for the first time in weeks, Max is suffocated by the depth of Nev's brown, bottomless spheres. His visage is unreadable, though he evidently isn't his happy and chipper self.

Max blankly stares back. He needs to say something—anything—but Dave beats him to it.

" _Ne—_ ”

“—Alright. Quiet, people. Roll tape. Five, four, three...”

On cue, Nev perks up, opens his arms in greeting and plasters on a toothy smile, “ _Look who it iiissss_.”

Huh? Him? He’s talking to him? This is the same Nev? Max retains his gawky stare long enough to disrupt production.

"Cuuut," Dave groans, "somebody get Max another coffee."

"Nonono, I'm fine! I got this." He just wasn't ready. He just met Nev's eyes seconds ago. It was too much.

"You look like you didn't get enough sleep last night. Tied up on the phone?" Nev picks in the way he knows will get under Max's skin.

Max digs his eyes into Nev's.

"No. I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"Then try to clear it out, okay? We're ahead of schedule and I really want to get this intro wrapped up. Roll again." Dave initiates counts down, and this time around, Max starts the entire act.

"Season four!" he exclaims, undoubtedly throwing Nev off.

So they want Max to play along? Sure. He'll play along.

"This is happening," states Nev, distinctly unshaken.

"We're here, we're back."

"You've been... unbelievably busy. Big time Hollywood director over here."

"Well it's definitely good to be back."

Nev's following smile is just as plastic and full of teeth. He taps Max on his shoulder. His touch lacks his usual warmth.

"Oh please. I'm sure you had _such_ an awesome time in Hollywood. I bet working with the great Zac Efron was an exciting experience."

Max clutches his handheld camera tighter. He knows what he's getting at. He's not fucking dumb; he can practically feel Nev's words cleverly scalping him. His irises darken a shade in Nev's direction.

"As a matter of fact, _yeah_. _It was_ —"

"— _Stooop_. Christ, this is painful," Dave interjects, "okay look. I don't know what's been going on between you two, but you both have forty-eight hours to get... _whatever_ this is out of your systems. I'm not wasting anymore of my time and everyone else's on filming you two cryptically bitch back and forth to one another. _Fix it_ , and we'll try this again Thursday."

"Thank God," Nev dramatically exhales, turning on his heels, "I'm going for coffee."

Max believes this is what people call an "out of body" experience, but his free hand sort of launches and snaps around Nev's bicep without his consent. If his unconscious goal was to stop him, he succeeds, and the pair are now standing frozen in place. Nev stares at Max's hand as if it's an appendage of his own that somehow sprouted out of his arm. His pupils then flick up into his. Max isn't too sure what expression he's got on his exhausted mug, but he suddenly wants to drop everything and force him into his arms. He wants to tell him he's sorry for whatever he did and however he did it. He wants him back. Needs him back.

It doesn't feel right.

 _Nothing's_ felt right.

"I really don't want you touching me right now," Nev explains, and that's the end of that. He yanks himself free and starts for the door. The whole crew's orbs follows Nev as he exits, then nervously pans to an expressionless Max.

The entire moment is captured on his handheld.

TTIWTWHT

" _You gotta go after him_ ," is the last thing Dave tells Max. He is the chosen one, the only one, who can solve this. But how, when he's the last person Nev wants to see? He does not make Dave any promises, but he did say he would try his very best to at least begin to talk things out.

The first step is to find him.

Well, at least he kept his word: Nev has occupied one of the two-person tables in the furthest corner of the petite cafe. He's on his phone, and that's good news for Max, who isn't concretely certain that he'll take off if he noticed him. But to keep that from happening anyway, Max takes every precaution to keep as much attention off of him as possible.

He tips to the cafe stand and quietly orders a freshly halved bagel and requests a generous spread of strawberry creme cheese. He thoughtfully cradles it in extra napkins.

  
With extreme stealth, Max cautiously approaches Nev from the rear, one silent step after the other. He stops when he's a good distance away. Max straightens his spine and takes a cleansing breath...

"For you," he says nonthreateningly, displaying his peace offering as he scuttles into Nev's line of sight. He even gives a little smile. Nev curtly acknowledges the snack itself, but returns to thumbing through his phone, apparently disinterested.

Max sighs. He takes the seat opposite of Nev and places the bagel to the side.

"I was hoping that we could start over from this morning, er, well... start over a little after I left, really. Things have been tense between us lately, and, I'd like to talk about it."

Nev is still heavily in tune with his phone.

Max is done.

"So this is it? This is what's happening right now? You're just gonna _not_ talk to me? You heard what Dave said. We have until Thursday—"

"— _You_ have until Thursday."

Max blinks. He has never been so confused.

"What?"

"If you don't want to do this anymore, that's totally fine. I can do this by myself. Have been for the past few episodes."

"Nev what the hell are you even _talking_ about? I've never said anything about quitting."

Nev rolls his eyes and pulls his cup to his lips without another word.

Defeated, Max huffs, rubbing over his eyelids with his fingers.

This is absolutely draining.

"Whatever's bothering you, Nev, or whatever has you upset with me, you need to tell me straight up. 'Cause I can't read your mind and I'm damn sure not gonna sit here all day and try. We're grown-ass men. So whenever you're done pouting and putting words in my mouth, you come and find me. I've done my part—"

Max phone starts to chime in his back pocket. Their eyes directly meet for the second time that day. Answering the phone without screening the call first is something that he's gotten used to doing, so Max taps the green button and hikes the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"'Sup, Max. Made it in okay? You never called when you got in."

It's Zac, his eyes say. Nev seems to know who it is, too. And he does not look too ecstatic, if he ever did.

Shit.

"You never answered me that quickly," Nev grumbles, but loud enough for Max's ears to catch—which is exactly the point. He rises from his chair and storms off, throwing his half-full coffee into the nearest trash bin with more force than needed, and nearly missing.

" _Nevnowait_ —" and Max is on his feet, tailing the runaway man and responding to Zac with ragged breath, "I sure didn't. I'm sorry, Zac. The ride was smooth and everything went fine."

"That's awesome. Er, you okay? You sound out of breath."

"Yeah, I'm kinda in the middle of something—um, can I just call you back? Now's not a great time. It's quite possibly the worst time."

"Ahhh, so you're with the girlfriend now?"

"Y-Yeah. And I'm in trouble. Big trouble. I'll explain everything later."

"Don't let me get in the way! I saw the tweets, bro. Go handle your business and we'll chat later."

"Thanks for understanding. I-I'll call you back, I promise."

Max ends the call—nearly dropping his phone in the process—then sprints down the hall for Nev, who is already leaps ahead.

"Nev! Nev, _stop_."

"This is so annoying."

" _Nev!!_ "

Max never knew his friend could slice the air so fast. Or maybe he's just slow and out of shape. Either way, he will not allow him to slip from his fingers. There's no telling where he'd go next, and he wouldn't answer any of Max's texts so he'd have no way of knowing Nev's location. Max is not having any of that right now. He'll tackle him to the carpet if that's what it'll take, but he does not want it to come to that. So Max kicks up the speed, mildly jogging down the never-ending corridor. He covers a lot of ground, getting so close to Nev he's confident that if he reaches out he'll luck up and snag a limb or the hem of his shirt. Acting on that faith, Max aims for Nev's hand, prays, and branches out. He hooks Nev's skinny wrist in his hand. Success.

He's definitely not getting away this time.

"Stop and _listen_ to me, Nev. _Please_ ," Max pleads, softly panting. It's effective. And the tone in which he says his name. It's thick and pastey like honey and resonates beautifully in the younger's ears.

"Let go of me, Max," Nev commands sternly, but their eyes do not meet. He cannot will himself to return Max's gaze, rather.

"Not happening. I need to talk to you."

"Funny, because when I want to talk, you are literally nowhere to be found. But now you want me to stop everything I'm doing just to see what you want? Sorry, but my world doesn't revolve around you, either."

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Max knew that would come back and bite him in the ass. It's full circle now, and just as karma would have it, he knows precisely what Nev felt in every hollow cell of his bones that very moment.

Well? What can he say?

"Nev, I... I'm sorry. I didn't... I shouldn't have said it like that."

Their pupils suddenly clash. For a split second, Nev's reflect anger. Disappointment. Regret.

Hurt.

"What you should have done was think before you spoke," Nev takes his wrist back, "and we'll talk when I want to talk, but I don't even want to look at you right now."

Max would go after him, but he's anchored down by a swollen heart.

TTIWTWHT

**Author's Note:**

> i received a [prompt](http://chibichibiusaa.tumblr.com/post/118342516586/omg-i-had-no-idea-you-wrote-that-mega-hot-nevax) from a sweet anon and i fulfilled it, of course. it has two more parts and the rating will certainly change. i hope it turns out to be what you envisioned anonnie and thank you for planting this idea in my twisted cranium.
> 
> and thank you all for reading this mess. i don't bite i [promise](http://chibichibiusaa.tumblr.com/ask)~


End file.
